


All I Ask Of You

by Sgt22



Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:45:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8060593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sgt22/pseuds/Sgt22
Summary: Starts with the final scene of the movie, with the way it should have ended.  But will Raoul go away gracefully, and let Erik and Christine have their Happily Ever After?





	1. Chapter 1

_Masquerade_   
_Paper faces on parade_   
_Masquerade_   
_Hide your face so the world will never find you_

Erik’s heart was breaking. Only moments before, he had been at the pinnacle of rapture; being kissed for the first time in his lonely, tortured life.

Christine had kissed him at the outset to show him that he was not alone. Their lips met, and in his mind there was at last a feeling of peace. The endless discordant musings and relentless longings fell silent. Blessed peace, followed by boundless joy. Christine pulled back from the kiss and opened her eyes. Her **Angel**. Her love. Understanding dawned. _**Her love**_. Not Raoul, never Raoul. Lovely boy that he was, he would never be, could never be, her Angel. She kissed Erik again, pressing her length against him, the heat coming off of him warming her even while standing in the cold water of his underground lake. She tenderly caressed his scarred features, as he dared to deepen their kiss, pulling her into his chest and firmly grasping her waist. When they parted at last, her chest was heaving and gazing into his eyes, Christine felt as though she were simultaneously drowning and flying. Erik stared intently back, watching each emotion pass over her face. She loves me. She _loves_ me. She loves **_me_**.

Christine smiled tremulously up at him, with wonder in her eyes at the joy she felt, at the love she saw reflected there. Erik felt as though his chest would burst, so full of love and longing it was. Then the realization set in. Slowly the elation on Erik’s face turned to sorrow, as great sobs began to wrack his chest. _She loves me, and I’ve ruined everything._

He could not keep her here, this beautiful creature of light. He belonged to the shadows, sentenced eternally to hiding in the darkness. He could not consign her to a fate that he himself despised. He loved her too much to imprison her in his tortuous existence. The tears were flowing down his cheeks as he turned from her.

“Take him. Forget me. Forget all of this. Leave me alone, forget all you’ve seen. Go now, don’t let them find you. Take the boat, swear to me, never to tell. The secret you know of the Angel in hell.”

Christine was stunned. Was he releasing her after what they just shared? The sound of Raoul choking behind her snapped her out of her shock. She ran through the knee deep water to untie the ropes that bound him to the portcullis. She hugged him, relieved to see that he was, for the most part, unharmed. She turned to look for Erik, but he had disappeared, unable to watch his beloved leave him yet again.  
Christine grasped Raoul’s hand, pulling him towards the small boat. “You must go! It isn’t safe to stay here.” They could hear the mob in the distance, growing closer.

“I won’t leave without you Christine. You cannot be thinking of staying! It’s madness! _He_ is madness!”

Christine slowly shook her head and gave him a sad smile. “Go now Raoul. My eyes are opened. I see everything as it should be.” She gave him a small kiss at the corner of his mouth, and stepped back.

Raoul was dumbstruck. Christine was clearly out of her mind; all the years under the spell of that madman had done their work on her. She would have to be taken by force. He regarded the little boat. There was no way he would be able to take her against her will in that tiny little contraption. It was hardly more stable than a canoe. He considered for a moment. He would find his way back out of this God forsaken underwater dungeon and return with the means to remove Christine from this hell. With, or without her consent.

“Very well. I shall always love you; there will never be a day when I don’t think of you.” Christine smiled at the memory of the song. Her first triumph at the Opera Populaire. Raoul noticed her smile, and thought it was for the memory of their reunion that had taken place the night of her debut at the Opera. His determination to rescue Christine from her madness strengthened, and he silently resolved to return for her as soon as possible.

He climbed into the little boat, and got underway. Stealing glances back at her, she watched him until he disappeared in the fog and darkness.

 

_Masquerade_   
_Paper faces on parade_   
_Masquerade_   
_Hide your face so the world will never find you_

Erik sang softly, his voice breaking. He had come so close to bliss, had held it in his hands for one brief moment. He loved, and was loved in return. But it was over now; this Angel would never dwell in heaven. He was cursed, doomed to be cast out and spend eternity in crushing solitude. He was in agony, his soul shredded.

Through his tears Erik glanced up to see his love watching him from the shadows.

_“Christine, I love you”_ he sang, his voice catching.

  
Christine smiled gently, her eyes filling with unshed tears. She stepped tentatively forward, her gaze drawn to the ring on her finger. The ring given to her by Raoul, but that she had worn instead as a symbol of her love for Erik. Would he send her away again? Could she convince him of her devotion?

Inside Erik, fear battled hope. Why was she here? He had sent her away, out of his love for her. Had she come to say goodbye? Or, as he had scarce allowed himself to think, had she returned to him?

As she approached, frowning in concentration as she stared at the ring, Erik lost all hope. She was here to say a last goodbye. His face was full of despair as he stood and waited for the final dagger in what was left of his heart.

Christine stopped before him and placed her hand on his bare chest, over his heart. It beat so wildly, as though it would burst from his chest. She grasped his right hand and placed it over her own pounding heart.

Staring up at him, she sang softly, “Love me, that’s all I ask of you”

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.

 

**A/N** : I live for feedback!  Please leave a review and let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

_Staring up at him, she sang softly, “Love me, that’s all I ask of you”_

All the air went out of Erik’s lungs with a _whoosh_ , and the strength left his legs.  His knees buckled, and he sat back down, hard.  His hand still over Christine’s heart, he could feel it pounding in rhythm with his own.  He was paralyzed with dread, terrified the next words he would hear would be the ones telling him goodbye.  She didn’t want anything more from him now, he knew.  The words she had just sung said as much.  He closed his eyes against the blow he knew would be coming, pressing his face into the gentle swell of her breast, as though to shield himself from the agony of what he knew her words had in store.

Christine tenderly wrapped her arms around him, leaning her body into him, and drew his head between her breasts.  Softly, with one hand she stroked his hair, while with the other, she roamed over his shoulders, marveling at the warmth and restrained strength she felt beneath her fingers.

Erik could take no more, being so close, and not holding her.  With a deep moan of anguish he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her as close as he could.  His tears returned undiminished, his body wracked with sobs.  He held her tightly, as he wept, heartbroken.  She was leaving him.  If only she would allow him this last moment, then he would release her.  She could depart, taking his broken heart with her.

“Sshhh now, my angel”, she softly murmured, holding him as the torrent of his anguish raged on.  She held him tightly, kissing the top of his head, nestling her cheek in his hair, and waited for the storm to calm.  Minutes passed, and his sobs became sighs. Gently clasping his chin, she lifted his tear stained face and began to rain soft kisses on his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips.  Tasting his salty tears, she was shaken to her core with her love for this man.  “Ssshhh, my darling” she whispered.  “Don’t cry, love.  Open your eyes.  Look into _my_ eyes and **_see_** all that I feel for you.”

Erik slowly opened his eyes, and saw the gentle smile on Christine’s face.  Hope stirred again in his chest. A single tear escaped her eye, and he traced its path down her cheek with a fingertip.  His eyes were drawn to her lips, and he tenderly brushed the plump bottom one with his thumb.  Christine lovingly cradled his face in her hands and kissed him.  Softly. Gently.  As though not to startle him out of this strange, new dream.

Erik could not hear, for the roaring in his ears, or the hammering of his heart.

_She came back!_  His beloved had returned to him.  Of her own free will she had chosen **_him_**.  And now she was kissing him, cherishing him, treasuring him.  Never in his life had he felt such an outpouring of love from another.  He reveled in this new sensation. The joy he felt was overwhelming, his heart was full to bursting.  Christine kissed him again, and then pressed her forehead to his and rested there for a moment, their breaths co-mingling.

_“Erik, I love you”_ she sang, echoing his song from earlier.

He released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding and the dam within him burst.  His smile was as the sun coming out from behind the clouds.  His love shone in his eyes, as he pulled her onto his lap and captured her lips in a fiery, heated kiss.  His hands were in constant motion, as though seeking to memorize every inch of her skin. Running his hands down her arms and up her back, he couldn’t stop touching her.  Branding her, learning every dip and curve, making her his.  He trailed his fingers across her collar bone and across the upper swell of her breasts.  His breath caught in his lungs when he felt her silky skin, and his throat grew tight as he felt her softly moan. 

He tenderly cradled her face as they kissed.  Her beautiful, angelic face, that had haunted his dreams and tormented his waking moments.  He thrust his hands deep in her tresses as he trailed kisses across her jawline and down her neck. Christine gasped and gave a small whimper as new sensations sprung to life.  Her soft cries of pleasure were almost Erik’s undoing, setting fire to a passion long suppressed.  He could not help but return to her mouth, moaning aloud when she took his bottom lip gently between her lips, lightly grazing it with her teeth.  His tongue sought entrance to her mouth, and he was rewarded with louder whimpers upon gaining said entrance.

Christine’s senses were in a maelstrom.  What was happening to her?  She felt on fire, as though everywhere Erik touched was bursting into flame.  Her stays were too tight and she couldn’t catch her breath, her heart thundering in her breast. His kisses were driving her mad, making her yearn for something more, although she knew not what.  She returned his kisses with a fire she didn’t know existed, relentlessly running her hands through his hair, under his shirt, over his shoulders, and down his chest.  At last she pulled away, panting, laboring for breath, and gazed at him in astonishment.  _What have you done to me?_

_Oh! So this is what the older dancers in the opera company meant!_

Christine had never paid much attention to their silly giggling and gossiping about this man and that man in the company. But now understanding dawned.  **_Passion._**

**_L’amour._**

Erik took note of the dazed look of wonder in her eyes, the flush of her skin, and her swollen lips, and his heart skipped a beat.  Or perhaps stopped altogether for a moment or two, he couldn’t be sure.  All he knew was that **_he_** was the one who had made her look like that, wanton, and filled with desire, and staring at him with such love in her eyes that he wanted to drown in their depths and never come up for air again.

“Christine… I… why…” Erik stammered.  He was afraid to know, had to know. He swallowed, began again. “Why? Why did you come back?”

Christine leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. Then she kissed all of his beautiful, horrible scars.  Slowly, gently, her eyes never leaving his.  “You are my Angel.  My heart.  I gave it to you long ago, and I never wish it to be returned.”

Erik’s throat closed and tears threatened again.  He nodded for her to continue, for he could not yet speak.

“I love you.  I wish never to be parted from you again.  Wherever you go, let me go too.”  Christine’s voice broke, “That’s all I ask of you.”

 

*.*.*.*.*.*


	3. Chapter 3

Christine searched his face and waited breathlessly.  “Will you send me away again, as you did before?” 

Desire and reason were at war within Erik.  His immediate thought was, _I would die if you left me now._

Followed by, _I love you too much to have you live like this_. 

Christine could see the internal struggle in his eyes.  Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she leaned in and nuzzled his cheek, and exhaled softly in his ear, raising the hairs on the back of Erik’s neck.  Then, taking his earlobe between her teeth, she began to gently suckle it.  

The response in Erik was immediate; blood surged through his veins and he drew in a sharp breath.  He kept one hand firmly clamped around Christine’s waist, holding her in place on his lap, while the other furled and unfurled in the folds of her dress.  His entire body shook with desire. 

Softly, deftly, she peppered his neck with slow kisses, periodically stopping to nuzzle and gently suck a particular spot. Her hand slipped inside his shirt and caressed his chest.  Christine was fascinated with the planes of hard muscle, and the heat radiating off his skin.  She traced her hand up over his shoulder and back down his chest again, stopping to explore his nipple, hard and pebbled. 

Erik let out a low moan.  “ ** _Please_** , Christine!”  He didn’t know if he meant please stop, or please go on.  It didn’t really matter, either would be tortuous.  Her innocent, yet impassioned explorations were driving him to a beautiful sort of madness.  His heartbeat thundered in his ears and his arousal grew uncomfortably painful within the confines of his breeches. 

Christine kissed back along his jawline, deliberately making her way back to his mouth. She took his bottom lip between her teeth and leisurely tasted him, her tongue sweeping over his lip before entering and engaging his own.  They kissed for long minutes, Christine touching him all the while, running her fingers through his hair, down the back of his neck, across his shoulders, and back again, savoring each sensation. 

She pulled back from him at last and stared deeply into his eyes, dilated and heavy lidded with desire.  Erik’s breathing was ragged and he struggled to maintain a tenuous grasp on his control.  It was his turn to wonder, _What have you done to me?_

Followed immediately by, _I will **never** willingly let you go_. 

Erik whispered, “I would sooner part with my own heart than part with you.” 

He searched her eyes and continued, “But my love, I cannot bear to keep you here, locked away with me in this unending darkness.  I would not watch you wither and die, when you belong in the light.” 

**************************************************** 

Raoul struggled to maintain his balance in the boat as his eyes searched the darkness for a way out of this subterranean maze.  He was hopelessly lost, as each watery tunnel he went down led to another branch, or dead-ended in a stone wall.  Occasionally he would hear shouts from ahead, or behind, he could never tell which, with the sounds bouncing off the cold stone walls and echoing over the water.  He had to keep going though.  Christine needed him.  She needed him to rescue her from that madman who had bewitched her. 

As he punted the boat along, he reflected back on the moment when he realized it was the Phantom onstage with Christine, singing the lead role in _Don Juan Triumphant_.  He saw the change come over her at once, from his box overlooking the stage.  He watched her eyes grow wide, and the blush heat her cheeks as the Phantom sang the first words.  She was transfixed, utterly entranced by his voice, and she was drawn to him as though bespelled.  The audience thought it was all part of the production, but Raoul knew better.  Even though Christine was being used as bait against her will, she went to him, spellbound, by their undeniable connection to each other.  Raoul had watched in horror as Christine poured her heart out in song to that apparition from hell, never even sparing Raoul a glance, never again even looking in his direction.  It was as though Raoul had ceased to exist in Christine’s mind as soon as her precious Angel of Music appeared. 

He heard Christine’s voice as she had sung to the Phantom, “ _In my mind I’ve already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent.  No second thoughts, I’ve already decided.  Decided.”_   Raoul considered.  **_Had_** she decided then?  Had his quest for her been over even then?  Before the Phantom had even absconded with her?  **_No!_**   He shook such thoughts from his head.  She was **_his_** , curse it; she had consented to be his wife, after all. 

_But it was a “secret” engagement, was it not?_   She hadn’t wanted to tell anyone of their involvement.  It occurred to him now to wonder why. 

Raoul pushed that thought away quickly. 

Unfortunately it was immediately replaced with the memory of Christine stalking steadily toward the Phantom, singing _“One final question; how long should we two wait before we’re one?”_

_**Dammit!**_

The Phantom had written that cursed opera, had written Christine’s part, knowing that she would be singing it to **_him_**.  Knowing she would sing the words with the meaning as intended.  Knowing that she would feel every word he sang to her as a caress, building toward an inevitable climax.  Knowing that her blood would be heated to a fevered pitch, and she would be desperate for possession. 

**_How_** _did he know?_

_It doesn’t matter!  What matters is getting her out of his clutches_.  Raoul put all thoughts out of his head and concentrated on finding his way out of the dank, watery hell-hole. 

He punted with renewed vigor, more anxious than ever to escape this maze and find Christine before it was too late.  He plunged the pole into the water, and felt it slip on an uneven stone.  He struggled with his balance, steadying himself on an odd looking gargoyle hanging from one of the pillars lining the walls of the tunnel.  The gargoyle shifted slightly on its base, and suddenly Raoul heard the sounds of grinding gears and rushing water. 

******************************************* 

Erik cocked his head to the side and listened.  His keen hearing picked up on the distant rumbling of heavy stones moving into place, and water rushing by. 

Christine flashed worried eyes.  “What was that?” 

Erik smiled as he kissed her.  “Your former fiancé is proving to be quite a helpful fellow.”

 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

**A/N:** Thank you very much for reading!  Please leave me a review and let me know how you feel!


	4. Chapter 4

**_Dear God, what fresh hell is this?_**

Raoul was easily having the worst day of his life.  Thus far, he had been dropped through a trapdoor and almost drowned, been trussed up like a Christmas goose and strangled for his troubles, and had then suffered the indignity of watching his fiancé willingly kiss a hideously deformed madman 

( _and seemingly enjoying it, to boot_ ) 

only moments later to have her choose the maniac over him.  And now, it would seem, he was going to be crushed to death by a stone wall, which was steadily closing in on him. 

Water began pouring in from a hole in the wall above, drenching him, and filling the small boat.  As the water rushed into the steadily narrowing passage, it became a swiftly flowing river, smashing the boat into the walls and pillars.  Raoul was tossed overboard, and came up sputtering, coughing up the foul tasting water.  The boat broke into splinters and was whisked away in the current.  The lanterns sank to the bottom, and Raoul was plunged into darkness. 

_How does one almost drown twice in the same day?_

His more immediate concern was how to keep from being crushed to death before he could get around to drowning. 

The punting pole from the boat brushed by him and Raoul grabbed it before it could get past.  It wasn’t much to hang onto, but it was better than nothing.  He was swept along in the current with the wreckage from the boat, intermittently being slammed into outcroppings of pillars, battering and bruising his shoulders and ribs. 

The current picked up, and abruptly Raoul felt himself falling. 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*. 

 

“What do you mean?  How has Raoul been helpful?  And what’s that sound?”  Christine looked above and around, searching for the source of the sound of heavy stones being ground against each other.

Erik stood and walked to the edge of the water. “I don’t know how he managed it, but he has tripped the mechanism to open the dam overspill that feeds this lake.  When he opened that wall, he sealed us in, and him out.”  

_And flooded all the chambers between here and there_ , he didn’t add.  

Erik worried that the notion of drowning would alarm Christine, even though he knew that there were easily 4 other means of escaping his lair.  He didn’t expect that the water would rise in this part of the catacombs, but he couldn’t be sure how much water had rushed in before the wall moved, sealing them in. 

However, he need no longer worry about an angry mob rushing in.  If they had managed to find their way through the maze of water tunnels, they were now swimming for their lives, back in the direction from which they came. 

Erik put his arm around Christine, pulling her close.  She looked up at him, worry clouding her eyes.  

“Do you think… did any harm come to Raoul?”                                                                                                       

Erik tilted his head and regarded her, anxiously searching her eyes.  He saw in them concern, but nothing more.  He released a relieved breath. 

He gave her a small kiss and said “Don’t worry, love.  He’s in a boat.  He’s perfectly safe.”  She gave him a gentle smile, grateful that he understood that she was concerned for Raoul’s safety, but nothing more. 

Christine wrapped her arms around him and nestled her face into Erik’s chest.  She inhaled deeply, filling her senses with his faintly spicy, masculine scent.  He smelled heavenly.  Sweet intoxication.  She rubbed her face against his warm, smooth skin, stopping here and there to plant a kiss, luxuriating in the feel of flesh upon flesh.  Erik’s chest swelled with the contact, and he pulled her even closer, hands roaming over her back, venturing down to palm the swell of her bottom and pressing her into his ever burgeoning arousal. 

Christine could not resist her body’s yearning to be as close to him as possible.  She pulled his head down, capturing his lips, while pulling his shirt from his breeches.  She longed to explore every inch of him, relishing the sensation of his ragged breath as she broke from his mouth only long enough to pull his shirt over his head and discard it, unseen. 

Christine paused, her hands clutching Erik’s arms, and took a half step back.  The sight that greeted her caused the air to rush from her lungs. Her lips parted, and her eyes dilated with desire. She felt an immediate pooling of warmth between her legs.  Erik’s arms, shoulders and chest appeared as though they were chiseled out of stone.  As pale and exquisite as the marble statues at the Louvre.  But, oh so much more.  Warm and alive and standing before her. 

_Hers_. 

“ _So beautiful_ ” she softly exclaimed. 

She gently stroked the smattering of hair in the center of his chest, and with the backs of her fingers, traced the dark trail down until it disappeared into the waistband of his breeches. 

Erik was quivering with the strain of holding still while she conducted her explorations.  He knew by the look of hunger and awe in her eyes that she had never seen a man thusly.  His male pride swelled with gratification that he would be her first.  Her first **_everything_**. 

As she would be his. 

They would experience everything together for the first time.  Erik knew then what Adam must have felt in the Garden of Eden; that God made this woman for him, and him alone. 

It was exhilarating, and terrifying, and soul fulfilling, all at the same time.  Erik never in his life expected to have someone who loved him, who desired him, who looked at him with such longing as he saw on Christine’s face just now. 

He lifted her chin and looked in her eyes.  “ _So beautiful_ ” he breathed. 

*.*.*.*.*.*. 

Raoul was plunged over an 8 foot drop and landed in yet another tunnel stream.  This current moved much slower, but it was too deep for him to touch bottom.  He lost hold of the punting pole when he went over the drop, making him struggle more to stay afloat.  It was completely black in the tunnel, and every now and then something would brush by one of his legs under water.  It wasn’t manly to cry out, but in his defense, he was alone, wet and freezing cold, lost in the dark, and completely unnerved. 

_Damn you, Christine!  
_

_**What?**_   Where had that thought come from?  He mentally rebuked himself.  A Gentleman **_never_** swore at a lady.  The fix he was in wasn’t her fault.  It wasn’t.  Well, maybe it was a _little_.  If she had only come with him, he wouldn’t have gotten lost in the maze of tunnels.  After all, she knew the way in.  It stood to reason that she would also know the way out.  He _fell_ in, for God’s sake, it’s not like he could be expected to know which way was the exit. 

He shook his head and pushed those thoughts away.  His poor Christine.  There was no telling what treatment she was presently being subjected to at the hands of that madman.  He **_had_** to get out of this tunnel system and figure out a way back to her.  She must be saved.  From the Phantom, and _(mostly_ ) from herself. 

While Raoul consoled himself with grandiose plans for Christine’s rescue, he failed to notice it was subtly getting lighter.  So deep in thought was he that he didn’t even realize that he _could_ see, until he noticed a dark, oblong shape floating in the water beside him.  Leaning closer to try and make out what it was, it was then that Raoul noticed the long, fat, pink tail trailing behind it.  The large wharf rat swam leisurely past him, using its tail as a rudder.  Startled and revolted, Raoul gave a loud shout and thrashed to get away. 

_God in heaven, can this day get any worse?_

 

***.*.*.*.*.*.*.**

 

**A/N** : Thanks for reading! Please leave a review!

 


	5. Chapter 5

Meg Giry sat down on one of the stone steps that led down to the subterranean tunnels, blew the hair out of her eyes and considered. 

_Where was that idiot Raoul? Oh, forgive me, I meant, where is that idiot, His Lordship, the Vicomte de Chagny?_

Meg was not terribly impressed with Raoul’s family’s ancient lineage.  Working and living at the Opera Populaire her entire life, she had encountered her fair share of the nobility, and even upon occasion, royalty.  She knew the majority of them to be an assortment of puffed up half-wits.  Too many generations of breeding only with each other, and that’s what you got.  Half-wits. 

_Like Raoul_.  Meg smirked and shook her head.  Perhaps she was being a bit harsh.  Raoul wasn’t precisely a half-wit.  He was still just a boy, really.  There was still time for him to snap out of it.  He was impetuous, and given to grand declarations, and didn’t really think things through, but that didn’t precisely make him a half-wit.  More likely, a seventy percent wit.  _That’s it_ , Meg was willing to allow, _Raoul qualified as a seventy percent wit.  
_

_I will say this, he’s got some bollocks on him!_   Raoul was brave, not at all afraid of donning a rapier and having it out.  And he had gone after Christine without a second thought when she had been taken by the Opera Ghost.  Meg respected that.  A man _should_ protect and defend the woman he loves.  Meg sighed.  She vaguely wished there was someone who felt that way about _her_. 

_Oh, bother!_ Meg stood up and retrieved the torch from the wall sconce and began descending the stairs.  Above, the opera house was in pandemonium; several fires had broken out, the enormous chandelier had come crashing to the ground, and people were getting trampled in the crush to escape.  It was panic and chaos.  A lynch mob of police and several stage hands had formed to go after the Phantom and rescue Christine, but a dozen men didn’t make much of a mob to Meg’s mind.  Besides, those idiots were all headed in the wrong direction.  She tried to tell them, but they dismissed her; she was, after all, just a young woman.  What could she possibly know that was of any value to a man? 

Meg gritted her teeth and gave a small growl, at the memory.  _Yes, you fools, go! Go in the wrong direction!  Don’t listen to the person who has lived here her entire life and knows these tunnels like the back of her hands!_  When she wasn’t studying ballet, or her lessons, Meg had explored these tunnels daily as a child.  Once she had discovered them, they had become her own private playground.  She had even sweet talked the master carpenter of the theatre into fashioning a small skiff for her, which she used to punt through the watery maze below.  The carpenter hadn’t known she actually sailed the small craft he made her; she told him she had it set up in an empty storage room and used it to pretend to be a pirate.  He had laughed in delight at the notion of the tiny girl pirate, bravely engaging in battle at sea. 

Meg continued to descend, and walked down passages, unused by anyone but her in decades.  She had no fear of getting lost or disoriented; she knew exactly where she was and where she was going.  After a few minutes of walking, she arrived at the location of her hidden skiff.  Even though she knew these tunnels to be abandoned, she kept her small vessel hidden from view behind some empty casks of wine and a few discarded crates that she herself had dragged down there years before.  Meg was a girl who believed in having a contingency plan, and a key part of any good plan was concealment. 

Meg uncovered the craft, launched it into the water, grabbed the oar and torch and nimbly hopped on.  She placed the torch in the sconce on small stand at the front of the skiff, and began to row.  She had a particular destination in mind; the Phantom’s lair.  She had been there twice before; the first time she had been only nine, paddling about and learning her way around the underground labyrinth.  She had been attracted down a particular tunnel by the glow of distant candlelight.  She remembered being stunned when she arrived at the portcullis, and spent several minutes clinging to the iron bars and gazing in awe at the wondrous sight before her.  Her way was barred from further discovery, so after looking her fill, she turned and paddled back the way she had come.  Meg had known at once that it was the lair of the Opera Ghost.  She had heard tales of him her entire life; he was legendary at the Opera House. 

The second time she ventured there was just last year.  After Christine had mentioned her tutor, her “ _Angel of Music_ ” as she called him, Meg wondered if her Angel and the Opera Ghost were one and the same.  So one day, while the company was rehearsing, Meg had taken the opportunity to slip out unnoticed and satisfy her curiosity.  Depending upon her unerring sense of direction, she made her way back to his lair, stopping only to leave her torch in a sconce on the wall along the way.  She arrived silently, and enveloped in shadow.  Again, the portcullis was drawn in place, blocking her progression, but this time she was rewarded with actually spying her prey.  The Opera Ghost was seated at his massive pipe organ, his back to her, his fingers flying furiously over the keys, stopping only long enough to scribble notes on the musical score before him.  Such was his concentration that he never heard her, never became alerted to her presence.  She watched him for long minutes, her soul soaring along with the beautiful, heartbreaking music he played.  At last, satisfied that this was indeed Christine’s Angel, she slowly, deftly, silently, paddled her way back out. 

Meg never said a word to anyone about what she had seen.  Her mother had told her of the Opera Ghost’s horrific childhood, and Meg saw no cause to alert anyone to his presence.  He had never hurt anyone she cared about, and as far as she was concerned, he had done the world a favor by dispatching that bastard Buquet, that depraved degenerate who preyed upon the younger, weaker girls in the ballet company.  As ballet mistress, her mother kept an eagle eye on her charges, but occasionally, Buquet was successful in luring one away on some pretense, and the pitiful creatures never returned the same.  _Good riddance_ _to bad rubbish_ , thought Meg.  He deserved to get hanged by the neck, and part of Meg even admired the theatricality of the Phantom’s method of dispatching him in the middle of La Carlotta’s performance. 

Meg paddled on in the darkness, occasionally hearing shouts from the imbecilic search party, who, were by now themselves hopelessly lost.  She shook her head and grinned, _serves them right!_  They would never find their way anywhere, and would probably have to be rescued as well.  Not by her, of course.  They hadn’t wanted her help before, and she wouldn’t offer twice. 

Meg considered all that she had witnessed in the performance earlier.  The electricity between Christine and the Phantom as they drew inexorably toward the consummation of their relationship in song, had all but ignited the stage between them.  And then ironically, it did actually ignite the stage between them, and all hell broke loose.  However, Meg wondered if all was not quite as it had appeared.  Perhaps Christine had _wanted_ to go with the Phantom.  Hard to say “ _no_ ” to a man willing to burn down an entire building full of people just to be with you.  Meg laughed at her musings.  Just the same, she would go and see if she could find Christine and discover for herself whether or not the damsel needed, or even _wanted_ , rescuing. 

Meg was startled out of her reverie by the sudden distant sound of groaning gears and moving stone.  The roar of rushing water began to grow closer, and Meg turned around and looked back in time to see a wall of water descending upon her tiny skiff. 

**_Oh merde!  
_ **

***.*.*.*.*.**

**_A/N:  Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated!_ **


	6. Chapter 6

Erik stood shirtless, heart pounding, and blood surging, while his love slowly walked a circle around him. Trailing her fingers over every curve and valley, lingering over each line of lean muscle and sinew, her eyes devoured him with every step she took.  Erik could feel her weighted gaze roaming all over him, along with her hands, which were  stroking every inch of his exposed flesh. 

He drew in a ragged breath when she stepped right behind him, and entwined her arms around his torso and pulled him into her embrace.  Her breasts pressed into his back, and he could feel their hard, pointed peaks through the dress she wore, as she traced slow circles across his ribs and down across his stomach.  She nuzzled her face into his back and slowly kissed a line across from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, and then traced a line of hot kisses down his spine. 

Every muscle in his body was taut, coiled with tension and quivering with his efforts to maintain his steadily slipping control.  His fists were clenched at his sides, and his eyes were squeezed shut, head thrown back.  _Please God, don’t ever let this feeling end!_   As Christine continued to kiss and nip at the flesh on his back, her hands returned to caress his chest, her fingers gently rolling over his pebbled nipples, squeezing and stroking.  

Erik’s chest was heaving and he emitted a guttural groan.  He was right on the brink of climaxing.  One more moment of this blissful torment and he would spill in his breeches. He growled out, “Christine, **_please_** , you don’t know what you’re doing to me!” _  
_

At last she circled back in front of him and with a muffled cry Erik roughly pulled her into him, his hips involuntarily jerking, seeking contact. He kissed her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth, and he felt as though his very blood was on fire.  He encased her in his arms, which were by now like bands of steel, and pressed his whole length into her.  His pulse was roaring in his ears, and he only had one thought, and it beat in rhythm with his heart; _mine, mine, mine_. Christine wasn’t faring much better; her skin was flushed and her lips were wet and swollen when Erik finally pulled back from the kiss.  Her eyes were dazed and unfocused, as though she had been drugged. 

Erik had every intention of stepping away from her, out of reach, until he had regained some control of himself.  Until he looked at her, and saw the raw desire etched on her face, calling to him from her eyes. 

“ ** _Please,_** Erik” she softly moaned. 

It was his undoing.  Resolve went out the window as he swept her up into his arms and carried her to his great swan bed. 

*.*.*.*.*.*. 

**_Oh, merde!_**   The wall of water was bearing down on Meg and her little skiff.  She leapt to the front of the vessel and turned her body to the side, balancing her weight between her front and back foot.  She held tightly to the oar, ready to plunge it into the water and use it as a rudder if need be.  The water reached her and lifted the back of the boat into the air.  Meg braced her feet, grateful that she was still dressed in the boots and breeches of her costume from earlier. If she had been in slippers and a dress, it was likely she would have already slipped and fallen into the water. 

_Where was all this water coming from?_   It hurled her down the tunnel with frightening speed, crashing and splashing up when it encountered the obstacles of pillars and walls.  Meg had her oar in the water, and was steering with all her might to keep from being thrown into the pillars and walls as well.  The sound was nigh on to deafening, and Meg had to concentrate to remember her location in the tangle of waterways.  Offshoots of the main passageway sped by, too rapidly for Meg to steer into them, but she needed to get out of this torrent before she was dashed to bits, along with her boat. 

_It’s now or never,_ she decided, and plunged her oar into the water on the right side of the boat, and held on for dear life.  The water threatened to tear her oar from her hands, but she held on, arms straining, and knuckles turning white.  She leaned her weight over as much as she dared, for she feared capsizing, and then deftly whipped the little craft into a passageway on the right. 

“ ** _Yes!_** ” She shouted.  The momentum from the main surge pushed her into the new tunnel, but she had to paddle for a few additional strokes, lest she get stuck in an eddy and sucked back out into the still rapidly flowing waterway behind her.  When she had paddled 20 feet or so in, she stopped to catch her breath.  She was relieved to be out of the way of the tidal wave, but she also felt an immense sense of satisfaction with her own capabilities.  _Not bad, if I do say so myself!  
_

Meg took a moment to review the map in her head of the watery labyrinth, and then knew which way she had to go.  She remembered the sounds she had heard of the rumbling, grinding stones, and she considered what that meant.  Could the Phantom move the walls around down here?  It hardly seemed like that would be necessary; no one but her could ever find his lair. But perhaps he just didn’t want anyone getting too close anyway.  She began to formulate contingency plans, in case her route was blocked at any point along the way. 

Because Meg was a girl who always had a plan. 

*.*.*.*.*.*. 

Raoul was fairly certain he was losing his mind.  He had no idea how much time had passed since he’d left Christine in the Phantom’s lair.  Seemed like days, although he was certain that it had only been a few hours, if that.  He just floated along in the dark, and tried not to think about the smells, and the occasional splashes he would hear.  He did **_not_** want to think about what else was swimming around in here with him besides that giant rat.

_It’s going to take a lot for me to forgive you for this, Christine_.  _You’ve put me through hell tonight._   _God only knows what kind of disease I’ve caught, swimming around in this filthy water, while you’re off, doing Lord knows what, with that lunatic._   _If I ever get out of this, I’ll still probably catch pneumonia and die.  And for what?  You won’t even notice that I’m gone._

Raoul blinked rapidly, and shook his head to clear it from his whining complaints. _Good God, man!  Get a grip and buck up!_   Raoul scolded himself to stop blaming that poor innocent girl for his troubles.  

Well, perhaps now that a few hours had passed, she was no longer as innocent as she had been when he’d left her.  He had seen the way she and the Phantom had looked at each other.  Had watched them embrace.  

Raoul sighed.  _She certainly never looked at **me** like that_ , he could finally admit to himself.  _Past the point of no return, indeed_ , he thought.  When they had been onstage, singing to each other, Raoul’s eyes had filled with tears at the betrayal he felt.  Looking back at that moment, he started to feel that it really had been all over with between him and Christine even then.  He sighed again.  And now he was probably going to die down in this God forsaken water maze, and his body would never be found.  The giant rat would probably drag his corpse back to its nest and feed everyone in the neighborhood for a year. 

That was when he heard the sound of a girl’s voice humming.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Meg was paddling along through the tunnels, humming to herself and thinking about Christine and the Phantom, and Christine and Raoul as well.  She considered the pairings; Raoul was the obvious smart choice there, if one were looking to be ensnared in a solid, secure match  

**_Boring!_ ** _  
_

where you would never want for anything, and your future was all tied up for you in a nice little bow.  Meg shook her head.  That all sounded very appealing, so long as you didn’t mind spending the rest of your life like one of La Carlotta’s annoying, yappy little poodles.

_Stop judging.  You haven’t led Christine’s life, you don’t know how lost she’s felt since her father died._   Meg still had her mother.  Still had family she could go to, people who loved her, people she could depend upon and trust.  Christine had no one.  Little wonder then that she would allow herself be dragged about like a dog on a lead, letting Raoul take control of her life and her future.  Christine had come to Meg in tears, distraught over being forced to participate in the plan to snare the Phantom by using her as bait.  She was terrified, and did not want to betray her Angel; she just wanted it all to stop. 

Meg considered Christine and Raoul’s _engagement_.  Meg knew she was the only person aside from the two of them who knew of the secret engagement, and she thought back to the night when Christine had told her of Raoul’s proposal.  She had been smiling, but Meg noted that the smile never reached her eyes.  She had been excited, true, but it seemed to Meg to be more relief than anything else.  She would no longer have to worry about her future.

_Or ever make another decision on your own!_   _Or ever have another thought in your head.  Just smile, and let Raoul take care of everything!_   Meg rolled her eyes. 

But Christine and the **_Phantom_** , now that was another notion entirely.  Meg had watched, in rapt attention when Christine spoke about **_him_**.  Christine’s eyes had dilated and glazed over, as though she were bewitched.  She blushed violently when she spoke of him, and her voice took on a dreamy, far-away quality, as though she were being transported to a place where it was just the two of them, just them and the music they made together.  The Phantom was clearly obsessed with her, and she with him, but in his own manner, the Phantom was just as controlling as Raoul was.

_Boy, she certainly has the damsel-in-need-of-rescuing act down_ _pat_ , Meg mused.  _Even **I’m** trying to rescue her_ , she laughed. Meg had never needed rescuing; she could think circles around everyone she knew (except her mother) and she always had a contingency plan in place in case things didn’t work out.  Still, she thought, it might be nice to meet someone who was at least willing to _try_. 

For all Meg knew, Raoul might have already found and rescued Christine, and all of this might just be a waste of time.  No matter the present circumstances, she would have to exercise all of her powers of stealth upon approaching the Phantom’s lair.  He and Christine would either be _together,_ in which case Meg’s intrusion would be most unwelcomed, or the Phantom would be alone, seething and heartbroken, which would make him dangerous and unpredictable.  She would have to be on her guard either way.

She continued down the dark tunnels, absent mindedly humming the _Point of No Return_ duet from _Don Juan Triumphant_.  Meg was grateful that in midst of the raging torrent she had been in earlier, her torch had never given out.  It had gotten a little damp there briefly, but the flame had hung in, and was lighting her way nicely. 

“ ** _Hey!_** ”

Meg jumped and gave a little squeak of surprise. “ ** _Hello!_** ” the voice cried again. ** _“Is someone there?_** ”

It was a man’s voice, calling out in the darkness.  Meg stopped paddling, remained silent and considered.  Picking up passengers was not part of her contingency plan.  If, when she got to the Phantom’s lair, she discovered that Christine really _did_ need rescuing, she would not be able to manage 3 people on this skiff.  More importantly, Meg was completely unwilling to give away the location of the Phantom’s lair.  She didn’t want any harm to come to him.  She only wanted to find her friend and lend help if help was needed.  Still, she couldn’t in good conscience leave someone lost and alone in these tunnels.  If she rescued the man who had called out, she would lose precious time in taking him back to a spot where he could be dropped off and make his way back above ground.  She slipped her fingers into the calf of her boot, confirming the comforting handle of the knife there ensconced _(because you never know)_ and made her decision.

“ ** _Please!_**   I know you’re there!  I need help!” the man called out again.

Meg sighed.  “Coming!” she called back.

 

*.*.*.*.*.

Erik gently placed Christine back on her feet next to his great swan bed, where she swayed unsteadily for a moment, holding onto his arms.  She looked up into his face, memorizing every line.  _God, how I love this man_.  She would never tire of seeing his face, being held in his arms, listening to his voice.  Every moment that they had ever shared had been leading up to this.

_Past the point of no return.  
_

_The final threshold_.

Erik’s hands were shaking.  His emotions were a raging, swirling torrent.  Unbridled lust. Longing. Boundless love. Fear. Obsession. Joy.

He took a deep breath and exhaled raggedly.  Bent his head down and gave Christine a tender, soulful kiss.  Conveying in it, all that she meant to him, all that this moment meant to him.  She was the most precious thing in the world to him, and in that instant, she felt it fully.  Cherished.  Adored.  Loved.  Protected.

“I want nothing more in this instant than to lay you down in my bed, and make you mine” he softly spoke.  He searched her eyes. Then took her hands, curled over his,  and kissed them, first one, then the other.  “But I want nothing more in this _life_ than to first make you my _**wife**_.”

 

*.*.*.*.*.

Meg paddled slowly forward, and reached the junction where her tunnel met another, larger one.

“Here!  Over here!” the man called, obvious relief in his voice.

The man began to swim towards her and Meg tightened her grip on her oar.  Just in case. _Because you never know_.  As they drew nearer each other, Meg strained to see past the torch light and into the dark water.

“ ** _Meg_**? Meg is that you?”

The wet, bedraggled man swam into view.

“ ** _Raoul?_** ”

_Well, at least now I know where the idiot is.  And dammit, now I’m going to need another plan!_

 

_*.*.*.*.*.*.*._

 

**A/N:** Thanks for reading!  Your comments mean a lot, so please leave me a review!


	8. Chapter 8

_“I want nothing more in this instant than to lay you down in my bed, and make you mine” he softly spoke.  He searched her eyes. Then took her hands, curled over his, and kissed them, first one, then the other.  “But I want nothing more in this **life** than to first make you my **wife**.”_

Christine’s heart leapt in her chest.  Now **_this_** was a proposal!  She gazed up at Erik and let all the love she felt for him shine through her eyes, her smile.  _Yes, yes, **yes!**_ her eyes said.  As Christine smiled, her eyes lit up with a mischievous spark.  “You wouldn’t happen to have a priest stashed away down here somewhere, would you?” 

Erik paused.  Blinked.  Then threw his head back and roared laughter.  Christine laughed as well, enchanted by his beautiful radiant smile.  It felt wonderful to laugh with Erik.  It felt _normal_.  And these were two people in divine want of a bit of “normal”.  Erik wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, all the pent up tension leaving his body. 

Christine wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.  Smiling, she said “I love you so very much.”  Erik nuzzled his face in her hair, joy radiating out of every pore in his body.  “Oh, how I love you, my sweet.” 

“So then….no priest?” she giggled into his chest. 

“More’s the pity, but no, no priest” he chuckled. 

They sat on the edge of the bed, holding hands.  Erik gazed at their entwined fingers and then looked hesitantly into her eyes.  “Darling, do you….” Eric blinked several times, and swallowed hard.  Exhaled a deep breath and began again.  “Would you…”  He took another deep breath and tried to slow his racing pulse.  _Dear Lord, why am I so scared?_

_Just get on with it man!_

Erik closed his eyes, inhaled, and opened them to Christine’s gentle, encouraging smile.  “I love you more than my own life” he began.  “I never before even gave a thought to the possibility of being in love. Certainly I never dreamed of being loved in return.”  He smiled.  “You are the _only_ woman I have ever wanted, the only one I can ever be with.”  Erik slowly shook his head and gazed off into the distance.  “Part of me thinks that this is all just a beautiful dream that will kill me upon awakening.”  He brought his eyes back to hers and tilted his head, considering her face and marveling at the puzzle before him. He gave her a small smile and leaned in and kissed her tenderly.  Unshed tears formed in his eyes as they lingered on hers.  “I want you.  I want you, **_forever_**.  I will do anything to make you _want_ to stay by my side for the rest of my life.” 

Tears spilled down Christine’s face. 

“I want to be your husband.  I promise to cherish you. Protect you. Love you until my last breath.”  Erik’s voice broke. “Please, Christine. **_Please_** , marry me.” 

*.*.*.*.*.*. 

“Raoul, what happened to you?”  Then Meg remembered herself, “Oh, I beg your pardon. Your Lordship, what happened to you?”  Meg had finally gotten Raoul up and settled into the skiff, after several attempts that almost ended with her in the water with him. 

He certainly looked worse for the wear.  Wet, stained, bruised and bedraggled.  And the _smell_.  Meg took shallow breaths through her mouth and tried to stay a bit back from him where the stench was not as pungent. 

Raoul was shivering after his time in the water, and was huddled as close to the torch as he dared.  In fits and starts, and with chattering teeth, he poured out the story of his failed rescue attempt of Christine, making sure to mention several times that he was certain that she needed medical assistance because she had clearly taken leave of her senses.  By the time he got around to his encounter with the rat, Meg had stopped listening. 

“…so if you would please just get out here, I will go and fetch Christine, and then the two of us will come back and get you.”  Raoul concluded. 

_Wait. No. **What?** What was that idiot yammering on about now?_   Meg blinked several times in rapid succession.  “I beg your pardon your Lordship.  _What_ did you just say?”

Raoul sighed in exasperation.  “I _said_ , if you would please just get out of the boat now, then I can be on my way to undo this horrible mistake my fiancé has made.” 

“No.” 

“ ** _No?_**    What do you mean, no?”  Raoul was incredulous. 

Meg rolled her eyes.  “You’re not deaf, and I don’t stutter. **_No_**. No, no, no. _**No**_ , you can’t have my boat.  _**No**_ , you’re not going after Christine.  Just, **_no_**.” 

Raoul was nonplussed.  This was certainly rather less cordial than he was used to.  “But, but, _I have to get back to her!_ ” he exclaimed. 

“Why?” 

Raoul opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.  Seconds passed.  At last he blurted out “Because she needs me!” 

Meg snorted. 

Raoul sighed heavily and put his head in his hands.  “She can’t love him.  He’s a murderous madman” he muttered. 

“He hasn’t killed anyone that didn’t have it coming.”  Meg retorted.  She then told him the truth about the perverted degenerate Buquet.  To his credit, Raoul listened carefully, without interrupting.  At the end of her tale, Raoul took a moment to consider.  “He still acted as judge, jury, and executioner.” 

Meg shrugged.  _So?_

Raoul sighed.  They floated on for a while in silence. 

They were coming up to the tunnel entrance that Meg knew would eventually lead them to the Phantom’s lair. She gave no indication of that though, as she continued to paddle.  She intended to row right past it and return Raoul to a dropping point, far away.  As she paddled by, she was inwardly startled to see that there was now a solid stone wall, where there had once been a tunnel.  Practiced actress that she was, she gave no indication that anything was amiss.  Just frowned in concentration as she mentally reviewed the locations and pathways of the tunnel system.  

_So he really **can** move walls around down here.  Hmm.  Impressive_. 

_Time for one of those contingency plans_. 

*.*.*.*.*. 

Christine nodded, her eyes shining, full of love for her Angel.  “One love. One lifetime.  Say the word and I will follow you.” 

Erik released a ragged breath in relief.  Their lips met in a full, lingering kiss.  In Erik’s mind he heard “ _I now pronounce you man and wife_.” 

*.*.*.*. 

**_Author’s note:  Thank you for reading, and thanks especially to the very kind people who have commented.  Any reviews are greatly appreciated!_ **


	9. Chapter 9

By unspoken agreement it seemed, Erik and Christine considered themselves husband and wife.  Before God and before each other they had pledged their devotion, their promise, and their love for one another.  They would deal with the technicalities later.  

An enraptured Erik pulled Christine to her feet and held her close.  Eyes shut tight, lost in this moment of holding his wife in his arms.  Cherishing her. Treasuring her. 

_Mine, mine, **mine**._ Eternity would not be long enough for him to savor this sensation. 

Slowly he turned her with her back towards him and wrapped his arms around her from behind.  Christine smiled and sighed in pleasure.  Erik moved her mane of curls to one side and began placing slow wet kisses down the back of her neck and across the top of her shoulder.  She shuddered in delight, and a blush began to creep across her chest.  Erik continued kissing her neck, moving on to nuzzle his face behind her ear, while his hands began to roam over her bodice.  He pulled her firmly into him, his large hand splayed across her stomach holding her in place.  His hips involuntarily thrust into the swell of her bottom causing Christine to gasp, and a blush to heat her cheeks.  She could feel his burgeoning length, and her mind swirled with the possibilities. 

Christine ran her hand up Erik’s arm, feeling his tightly coiled bicep, and continued on, reaching up, to run her fingers through his hair, baring her neck and inviting further attentions.  Her other hand grasped his flank, pressing him into her, holding him there.  She turned her face, and pulled him into a kiss. 

_Silently the senses abandon their defenses.  
_

Erik stroked her breast through the material of her dress.  His hand then dipped into her bodice and cupped her, gently squeezing and kneading.  Christine’s breath sped up and became ragged. Erik slowly, deftly, rolled her budded nipple in his fingers, plucking and lightly tugging until Christine began to moan. The sound pierced right through Erik, straight to his throbbing erection. 

Erik made swift work of unbuttoning the back of Christine’s gown.  It fell to the ground and she stepped out of it.  Erik gazed longingly upon her, dressed now in nothing but her corset, chemise, and stockings.  She was stunning.  

And she was his. 

_His wife_.  

He loosened the stays of her corset, and removed it.  His gaze was immediately drawn to her breasts, heavy and full, nipples pebbled and erect, their pink tips peeking through the thin material of the chemise.  His mouth went dry, and he swallowed, hard.  Looking back up into her eyes he breathed, “ _Dear God, you are so beautiful_.” 

The look of stark desire on his face made the moisture pool between her legs, and she reflexively squeezed her thighs together. 

Erik knelt to the ground before her and deftly removed her shoes.  He deliberately caressed his way up one leg and then bit by bit unrolled her stocking, stopping to kiss each bit of flesh as it was revealed.  He purposively did the same with the other, relishing each inch of skin as it was unveiled.  The scent of Christine’s arousal was coming off of her in waves.  It filled Erik’s head and flooded his senses.  His pulsating arousal was screaming to be released from the confines of his breeches. 

_God in Heaven, sweet intoxication indeed_ , he thought. 

Erik slid his hands up her legs to grasp her hips.   He buried his face at the juncture of her curls, separated only by the thin barrier of muslin, and nuzzled her, inhaling deeply, and imprinting this moment on his mind, her scent in his senses.  The sensation of his ragged exhale on her sensitive, aroused flesh caused Christine’s head to fall back and a small cry to escape her lips.  Erik couldn’t stop himself; he kissed her center, lightly caressing her with his tongue through the diaphanous material. 

Christine gave a sharp intake of breath, her eyes rolling back in her head, crying out.  _Much louder_ this time.  She swayed on her feet.  _  
_

_Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar._

Erik steadied her as he stood up.  Christine’s smoldering gaze burned through him. She ached for him, her center wet and throbbing.  As he toed off his boots, she ran her hands over his arousal, through the obstacle of his breeches.  The feel of her hands on his length was almost Erik’s undoing.  Escalating his hunger for her, as a starving man just out of reach of a banquet. 

He lifted her chemise over her head, and she stood before him, at last, naked, glorious.  Graceful.  Stunning.  Mesmerizing.  Erik’s breath left his body in a great rush, and he swallowed, hard. 

“You are truly God’s most divine creation” he breathed. 

Christine resumed her previous ministrations, exploring the sizeable evidence of his arousal, her eyes never leaving his, as with one hand she cupped him, stroked his manhood, and with the other, undid the buttons on his fly.  Free at last from the confines of his breeches, but still restricted by his smalls, his erection seemed to grow even further.  Gazing up at him through heavy lids, Christine mimicked his previous attentions by going down on one knee and slowly taking down his breeches.  

Seemingly of its own volition, Erik’s hand caressed Christine’s head, tangling his fingers in her mass of curls.  She mirrored his actions, first nuzzling his erection through his smalls, then placing a wet kiss on the tip, swirling her tongue across the head through the material. 

Erik cried out, and struggled for breath.  His heart was thundering in his ears, his chest heaving.  He pulled Christine to her feet, and divested himself of his undergarment in one motion.  Still standing, they embraced full length, bodies entwining, no barriers to their love at long last.  Erik tumbled her into bed and spent long minutes lying beside her, savoring the sensation of their flesh upon flesh, while he kissed her and murmured over and over how much he loved her, how precious she was to him, how he couldn’t live without her. 

Erik wanted nothing more than for Christine’s first time to be perfect, for her to find such rapture as to bind them together forever.  He rained kisses down her neck, nibbled and sucked on her collarbone, and at long last arrived at her swollen mounds.  He kissed their firm flesh and took an erect nipple into his mouth, suckling and pulling with his lips and teeth.  With his hand he tweaked and tugged her other nipple, making Christine gasp and cry out.  Her hips thrusting up off of the bed, she held onto Erik, pressing his face into her bosom, as she panted breathlessly. 

Erik alternated between breasts, sucking, kissing, and gently grazing his teeth over and across her sensitive peaks.  Unrelenting in his efforts, he trailed his hand down between her legs, to her throbbing, glistening center.  Christine raised her leg, opening herself to him, defenseless to resist.  Erik was in rapture at the feel of her silky folds, drenched, plump, and pulsating with her desire for him.  He slowly, gently, rubbed her most sensitive bundle of nerves, gently at first, but then firmer and faster as her hips rose to meet his hand.  Crying out, she came apart, in pulsing, throbbing, blinding bliss. 

As she came back to earth, Erik rolled onto her and centered himself over her.  His entire body was shaking as he rested his weight fully on her.  Christine’s eyes opened wide at this new, intoxicating sensation of bearing her man’s weight, his body cradled between her legs.  As they kissed, she slowly dragged her foot up the length of his calf, tracing up his leg, and across his buttocks, finally coming to rest at the small of his back.  Erik mentally took a moment to appreciate her flexibility. 

Poised at her entrance, both of them quivering and expectant, Erik looked intently into Christine’s eyes.  

“Past the point of no return” he murmured. 

“Take me, Erik, make me yours” she whispered, unshed tears shining in her eyes. 

“I, Erik, take you, Christine” he breathed, as he slowly surged into her warm, waiting, depth. 

_Oh **God**. I’m **home**_. 

_Erik never knew such euphoria existed.  He was lost, and then found, all in the same instant. His mind ceased to function on a conscious level; he became solely a creature of feeling and sensation.  Her wet, warm core, enveloping him. Her silky passage clasping and clenching him in her honeyed heat.  He began to move, slowly at first, but then, fervor building, he abandoned control and thrust repeatedly, his hips pumping, driving into Christine with a frenzy.  They moved together, lost in this new delirium of ecstasy.  Christine reached the peak again first, crying out, screaming his name as she reached a shuddering climax, her core spasming and pulsating around the thickness of his manhood.  Erik reveled in the pull of her orgasm, letting it tumble him breathless into the abyss after her._

They lay entwined, panting, their bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat.   When a few minutes had passed and their heartbeats were beginning to return to normal, Erik gave Christine a gentle kiss.  His eyes filled with unshed tears, as he gazed at her, his heart filled to bursting with love.  

“You are my love, my life” he whispered.  And that was everything to her. 

_*.*.*.*._


	10. Chapter 10

Meg and Raoul had been paddling around in the underground labyrinth for hours now.  Meg wasn’t lost, to be sure.  Meg was never lost; lost was for people who weren’t paying attention, who didn’t have a plan.  Meg had used this time to surreptitiously pass by each entrance she knew of that would have led her to the waterway to find the Phantom’s lair.  Satisfying herself that all of the entrances were now blocked off, she decided it was time to turn back and call off the rescue attempt.  Clearly Christine was in no need of rescue; by this time Meg hadn’t been considering it a rescue mission anymore anyway, more like a reconnaissance mission.  She wanted to make sure that no one would be able to use the waterways to gain access to the Phantom and Christine. 

Raoul had fallen silent a long time ago, dozing off a bit. 

Meg glanced down at his softly snoring form.  _Poor little pumpkin, he’s had a hard day!_ She laughed inwardly.  _Stop teasing the boy Meg!_ she scolded herself.  He _has_ had a hard day. Well and truly had his heart ripped out and stomped on.  Of course that still didn’t excuse the fact that he hadn’t once offered to row the boat.  _What am I, a bloody Gondolier for hire?_ she thought.  She intentionally whacked the side of the boat with the oar, startling Raoul out of his nap. 

“Oh, I beg your pardon your Lordship!  I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Meg gave an apologetic grin. 

Raoul blinked slowly and looked around.  “Good God girl, aren’t we there yet?  We could have crossed the Channel in this amount of time!” 

Meg looked down at him and raised her right eyebrow.  “You’re welcome to hop out and swim if you think that’ll get you there any faster” she replied, a chipper note in her voice.  “Maybe you can ask your friend, the swimming rat, for directions” she smiled, cheekily. 

Raoul opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out.  He was flummoxed.  Who was this girl to talk to him like this?  She had absolutely no regard for his rank, or his personage.  No one had ever spoken to him like this before.  He closed his mouth with a snap. 

After a few moments he quietly asked, “When do you think we’ll get back to Christine?” 

Meg sighed.  Put aside the oar for a moment and sat, looking gravely at Raoul.  “We’re not looking for Christine anymore.  We’re heading back.” 

“ _What?_   **_No!_**   We have to go back for her!  She needs our help!  God only knows what’s been happening to her this whole time!  We must return for her at once!”  

Raoul continued on in this vein for several more minutes, gesticulating wildly, impassionedly imploring Meg to turn the boat around and continue the search.  Yammering on about how much he loved Christine, and how deep down, he just _knew_ that she still loved him, and how he couldn’t abandon her in her time of need.  She was sick in the head and needed his help.  “Don’t you see?” he grabbed Meg by the shoulders and shook her for emphasis, “We must rescue her!” he finished, his chest heaving with the conclusion of his fanatical diatribe. 

Meg sat nodding, vastly entertained by his theatrics, a barely suppressed grin on her face.  To her credit she didn’t actually burst out laughing, but she was certainly storing up the memories of his fervent pleas and dramatic facial expressions to replay for her own amusement at some future point in time. 

“Your Lordship, you’re overwrought.  And acting like La Carlotta.  And if you touch me like that again, I will go upside your head with my oar.” 

Raoul abruptly snatched his hands from her shoulders and sat back, eyes widened in shock.  

“Let me ask you a question, Raoul. May I call you Raoul? Look, Raoul, you need to face reality.  Leaving out how you feel about Christine, tell me honestly how you think she feels about _you_.” 

Raoul fell silent.  Considering.  He seemed several times on the verge of saying something, but then the expression in his face would change, as though he were remembering another detail, perhaps one he hadn’t given much credence to before. 

Meg watched realization settle in.  _Now we’re getting somewhere_ , she thought. 

Raoul slowly shook his head, understanding dawning at last.  “She never really loved me.  At least not the way a wife should love her husband” he said in a small, quiet voice. 

“And leaving out how she feels about you, how do you think she feels about _him_?” Meg asked, watching his face closely.

Meg saw at once that he knew the answer to _that_ question.  

He closed his eyes and hung his head.  Nodded.  “She loves him.  They love each other.”  Raoul sighed sadly. “Why couldn’t I see that before?” he spoke more to himself than Meg. 

Meg finally began to feel something akin to respect for Raoul.  She had a high regard for teachable moments, and those willing to learn from them.  

Raoul’s shoulders began to shake a bit, as he still sat with his head hung, eyes closed.  Meg nimbly shifted position to sit next to him, and put her arm around him, consoling him, and pretended not to notice his tears.  She gently rubbed circles on his back and said softly, “Well, you see it now.  That’s the important thing.” 

After a few minutes Raoul pulled himself together.  Sighed.  Cocked his head to the side and looked at Meg, considering.  “So what do I do now?” 

Meg shrugged.  “What do you _want_ to do now?” 

They looked at each other for long moments, the young-but-learning Vicomte, and the wise-beyond-her-years ballerina. 

Something changed in that little moment.  It wasn’t _much_ of a something, but it was indeed a bit of _something_. 

It was Meg who broke eye contact first.  Having a “moment” with the Vicomte wasn’t part of her contingency plan.  And she was rather surprised that she wasn’t really sure how she felt about that. 

“I think, what I should like to do most is….” Raoul glanced at Meg’s mouth. 

“Take a bath” she finished for him.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

**A/N:** Thank you for reading!  Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

Erik awoke to the most glorious sound he’d ever heard.  More magnificent than his beloved’s melodic voice, more beautiful than any song he’d ever written. 

Slowly, gently.  _Thump-thump, thump-thump_. 

The beating of his wife’s heart. 

They had fallen asleep, tangled in each other’s arms, spent, consumed, and depleted.  Christine had drifted off snuggled on Erik’s chest, warm and sated, and very well loved.  Erik had lain awake a little longer, holding her tightly, listening to the sound of her heart beating in rhythm with his, feeling her chest rise and fall as her breaths got slower and deeper.  Could there be any sensation more wonderful than this?  Than the certainty that the woman he loved beyond all measure, beyond all reason, would be there when he awoke; that she would be there all the mornings when he awoke for the rest of his life.  For a man inured to soul crushing solitude, the joy was almost immeasurable. 

They had made love three times more that night, being unable to keep their hands off each other.  In fact, it seemed more probable that they had never really stopped making love at all; one joining seemingly ending while moments later another one would begin. 

_What warm unspoken secrets will we learn, beyond the point of no return?_

What warm unspoken secrets there were, indeed.  And, quite a few _spoken_ ones as well.  And several, even loudly exclaimed, with entreaties to deities thrown in for good measure. 

Christine’s eyes fluttered open.  Brown orbs met emerald green.  Christine gave Erik a slow, lazy smile, and gave a very feline-like stretch.  Erik became distracted by the southward journey of the sheet, and watched in rapt appreciation as it slid down, revealing her breasts to his avid gaze.  Watching _him_ , Christine was captivated by his enthralled attention to her, and her nipples grew hard under his scrutiny. 

Erik met her eyes.  “Good morning, love” he said, kissing her gently. 

Christine smiled, joy radiating out of every pore.  “Good morning, _husband_ ” she replied, kissing him with rather more ardor. 

And so it began again…. 

*.*.*.*.*.*.* 

Meg and Raoul returned to Meg’s secret dock close to dawn, both exhausted and neither really in the mood to talk.  After securing the skiff, they began the long walk back up to the Opera Populaire’s above ground rooms.  As they entered the opera house, the smell of smoke was overwhelming, making them both choke.  It was dark, and the remnants of thick, black soot hung in the air.  Raoul fished out his handkerchief and handed it to Meg to place over her nose and mouth.  It was still damp, and didn’t really smell any better than the smoldering opera house, but Meg appreciated the gesture just the same.  Raoul grabbed her hand to help her through the darkened room, making sure she didn’t stumble over any rubble, and led her up the stairs. 

In the main gallery the smell of smoke was just as powerful, although there was more light to be had than down below.  There were several people moving about, clearing debris and looking dazed and overwhelmed.   Sitting on the grand staircase, holding his head in his hands was Andre.  He just kept muttering, “We’re ruined.  Utterly and completely ruined.”  Monsieur Firmin stood talking with the police. 

“…and we’ve looked everywhere, but they’re nowhere to be found.  I fear we may never recover them” Firmin finished.  Just then, he spied Raoul and Meg emerging from the lingering smoke and darkness. 

“Praise God!  Your Lordship!  Are you unharmed?  We feared the worst!” Firmin exclaimed.  Andre jumped to his feet and embraced Raoul. 

“We’re fine.  We got a bit lost, but I was finally able to get my bearings.”  Raoul squeezed Meg’s hand, which he hadn’t dropped since giving her the handkerchief.  She regarded him and raised her eyebrow.  _Oh, really?_ He gave her an infinitesimal shake of his head. 

“It’s nothing short of a miracle that you’re still alive!  We had despaired of ever finding you!” cried Andre.

“Tell us! Did you find the mademoiselle and that fiend who absconded with her?” Firmin asked. 

Meg looked at Raoul, raising her eyebrows. _Well?  
_

Raoul squeezed Meg’s hand again, sighed deeply, and she watched, puzzled, as his eyes filled with tears.  “Christine, my great love, is dead.  She and the Phantom were drowned when the chambers below flooded.  I couldn’t get to them, the walls were closing.  There was nothing I could do.  Leave them.”  His voice broke. “Leave them there with each other, in peace.” 

Andre and Firmin both began to cry.  Whether from genuine grief, or the prospect of their further ruination, it was difficult to say.  The police officer shook his head sadly, and turned to go find his captain to tell him to call off the search. 

Raoul turned away from them, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, and walked with Meg outside, into the early morning Paris light. 

“Nice acting job there, your Lordship” Meg grinned. 

“Yes, perhaps I’ll give up all this nobility nonsense and trip the light fantastic instead.  I do seem to have a knack for it” he grinned in return. 

“Money’s not great.  Don’t quit your day job” she laughed. 

They stood close, still holding hands, staring at each other again for long moments.  At last, Meg unclasped her hand from his, stepped back, and smiled brightly.  “So what next, your Lordship?” 

Raoul felt strangely bereft when Meg let go of him.  _Odd,_ he thought. 

He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the rising sun.  

“An adventure, I think” he said, a small smile on his face. 

Meg watched him, nodding.  “Adventure is good.  _As long as you have a plan_.” 

*.*.*.*.*.

_Sometime much later that morning……_

“ _Insatiable woman!_ ” Erik laughed and rolled on top of Christine, pinning her to the bed, and holding her hands above her head.  “Can you please attend my words for five minutes, after which, I will once again satisfy your unrelenting carnal cravings!” 

Christine pretended to pout, looking up at him, but couldn’t maintain the charade and began to giggle.  She kissed him through her laughter, and Erik reveled in their happiness.  “Alright, then.  Five minutes.  You promised.”  And just to ensure that he would be good to his word, she began to subtly undulate her hips while running her foot up the back of Erik’s leg and down again. 

“ _Christine…_ ” he growled, his rapidly growing erection proof that her powers of persuasion were greater than his. 

“Yes, my love?” she answered sweetly, batting her eyes and slightly pursing her lips. 

“Oh, hell.” He captured her lips in a searing kiss.  As he slipped into her snug passage he murmured, “I know when I’ve been beat.” 

_And_ , _to the victor belong the spoils,_ she thought.  

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

**_Okay, sometime much later that afternoon, then…_** **.**

“You were saying, my love?” Christine asked, panting. 

Erik was splayed, spread-eagled on the bed, chest heaving.  Christine was sprawled atop him, her hair a tangled jumble across his chest, as breathless as he. 

It took Erik another five minutes to regain his powers of speech, and several more after that to regain any semblance of conversational comprehension.  When at last he could both think and speak again, he reminded Christine of what he had said the day before, when he told her he could not bear to keep her in the darkness. 

For one brief moment, worry flashed in her eyes.  But then looking into his beautiful green depths, she knew she had no cause for alarm.

“I’ve been thinking” he said, “and I think I’ve come up with a plan.” 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*


	12. Chapter 12

_Epilogue_

**_3 Years in the Future_ **

Erik sat on the veranda, watching the sun set, wondering if today would be the day he would finally get to see the famed “green flash” at sunset.  Since he and Christine had made their way to this island of St. Barthelemy in the Caribbean Sea, he had heard much of this phenomenon, but had never witnessed it himself.  Purportedly, at certain times, right as the sun slipped over the horizon, there would be an unexpected brilliant flash of green.  Apparently, it happened rarely, which increased Erik’s desire to witness it at least once.

As he waited, slowly sipping a snifter of brandy and watching the remnants of day slipping away, he thought of when he and Christine had fled France.  It seemed like just yesterday, and it seemed like a long time ago as well.  When he proposed the plan, he had initially worried that she would balk at leaving France, leaving all that she knew behind.

…………

_“I’ve been thinking” he said, “and I think I’ve come up with a plan.”  
_

Christine disengaged herself from the tangle of sheets, and sat up and attempted to pay attention. 

“We can’t stay here.  Even if we could, I wouldn’t.” Erik shook his head.  “This is no kind of life for you; you deserve so much more.”  And with that he launched into his plan for them to make their way to the coast and sail for the New World.

_Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world_

_Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before_

_Let your soul take you where you long to be……._

_Only then can you belong to me_

After outlining his plan, Erik waited anxiously for Christine’s thoughts.  Perhaps she wouldn’t want to leave her home, perhaps she preferred to go to London and be on the stage there.  There were a million possibilities that she might favor over his plan.  As long as her plans included him, he would remain flexible.

Christine wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, slowly, deftly.

“When do we leave?”

**********

That night, while Christine got some much needed sleep, Erik stole up to her room to get some of her clothes.  It was a bit risky, but Erik believed that with the opera house in such a state of disarray, that his chances of getting in and out, unseen, were good.  She only needed a few things; they would buy more for their journey once they reached the coast.  He just didn’t want to risk her being recognized on the journey to the port city, and planned to stay inside the coach as much as possible for the trip there.

It was dark when he crept in and silently closed the door.  He began stashing clothing items in a bag, being careful not to make it appear that anything was missing.

“ _Everyone thinks you’re dead, you know_ ” a girl’s voice whispered from the corner.  Erik barely stifled a gasp and whirled toward the voice, his heart in his throat.

It was Meg.

She knew one of them would come back for Christine’s things, and she had been silently waiting in Christine’s room ever since saying goodbye to Raoul that morning.

Meg stepped out of the shadows and got her first, up-close look at The Phantom.  She repeated herself, “Everyone thinks you’re both dead.  Raoul told everyone that you both drowned before he could save you.”

Erik raised his eyebrows, speechless.  _Why would he do that?_  

“He understands now.  I think he genuinely just wants her to be happy.  He understands now that her happiness lies with you.”  Meg smiled.  She dug in her pocket and pulled out something shimmering.  It was a short strand of the crystals from the chandelier, which was now lying in ruins on the floor of the opera house.  Meg had bent and fashioned the wire into a very delicate, beautiful bracelet.

She handed it to Erik.  “Please tell Christine that her friend Meg will always love her, and will never forget her.”

Erik nodded, his throat closing.

Meg took another step closer, coming face to face with Erik, their noses just inches apart.  She looked him square in the eyes, and in a soft, menacing tone said, “And _you_ , if you ever hurt her, you will deal with **_me_**.”

And with that, she turned and silently left the room, as though she had never been there at all.

Erik stood there in stunned silence for a moment, absorbing all she had said.  Then he too left.  Smiling.

So he and Christine had left Paris, left France, left everything and everyone behind, and had never looked back.  With the amount of money he had been extorting every month from the opera’s owners, Erik had a small fortune stashed away.  More than enough to make a new start anywhere they pleased.

Their first stop was to find a priest.

When they arrived in St. Barthelemy, Erik set out at once to build them a house, build them a life.  He had succeeded at both.

………………………………………..

“Did it flash green today?”

Christine bent down from behind him and kissed his neck.  The sun had dipped below the horizon, and evening was coming on with a gentle ocean breeze.  She draped her arms down his chest, and caressed him through his shirt.  Even after 3 years, her ministrations had the same effect as they had on their first night together.  Erik had not yet become inured to the boredom of married life, in fact, it was all he could do to be out of her sight for more than a few hours at a time.  After having suffered his entire life without experiencing a loving human touch, he found that he could not be long from Christine’s side without it causing him no small measure of distress.  Consequently, they happily spent almost every waking moment together. 

Erik turned his face up to receive a kiss from his wife.  He then took her hand and led her around to make her place in his lap, where she sat nestled into him, kissing his face and nuzzling his hair.  His arms snugly around her, he placed his large hand across her stomach, and slowly, gently rubbed the small bump that was just now becoming visible.

“No, not today” he murmured, kissing her.

“Well in that case, let’s go make some music of the night” she whispered, seductively.

**_The End_ **

**_*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*._ **

 

_Meanwhile, outside a pub in Calais, France, in a very **bad** part of town………………_

Raoul was sent flying through the front window of the establishment, glass shattering and wood exploding into the street.  His three attackers jumped through the window after him and began raining blows onto his struggling form.  He regained his feet, and dispatched one of them by showing him the shortest route to a nearby brick wall, but there was little doubt he was going to be beaten to a bloody pulp by the other two in short order.  The smaller of the two ruffians caught Raoul across the jaw, followed by a pummeling blow to the mid-section, and Raoul fell to his knees.  Unexpectedly, both of the men joined him, eyes rolling back in their heads as they went all the way down to the ground, unconscious.

_Wait. No. **What?**   What just happened?  _Raoul blinked owlishly, trying to make sense of what was transpiring.

“I’d say you have the _adventure_ part down, your Lordship.  What you are lacking is a **_plan_** ” grinned Meg.

**Not The End** _(for these two)_

 

**A/N:  Thank you to everyone who has been reading this.  I hope you enjoyed it.  I live for feedback, so please leave me a note and let me know what you thought!  Thanks again for reading!**


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